With summer just around the corner and the temperature’s rising fast (climate change reasons aside), tourist season is about to take off in full swing across much of Southeast Asia.

As more people hit the road (or the skies), it’s a good time as ever to start thinking about the kind of travel choices we make—especially in places where cases of greenwashing in tourism have become widespread.

Greenwashing, in short, is when businesses promote an environmentally conscious image without making any real effort toward sustainability. In tourism, this practice is often driven by actors from wealthier, developed nations—such as the United States and various European countries—who have packaged their ventures as 'eco-friendly' while overlooking the deeper commitments true sustainability requires. Although the push for sustainable tourism is important and shouldn’t be dismissed outright, greenwashing is a different matter entirely: it’s sustainability stripped of substance, driven by convenience and image rather than genuine change. To put simply, it’s the same old consumption dressed up as environmental consciousness.

In today’s context, greenwashing often reinforces colonial mindsets. It cloaks itself in familiar sustainability clichés, typically delivered from a patronizing, developed-world perspective—all the while offering little to no tangible benefit for the local communities it claims to support. These so-called solutions frequently address problems that the same actors have either helped create or now seek to exploit further, and whether their intentions are rooted in woeful ignorance or calculated opportunism, this dynamic poses a serious threat to many local communities across Southeast Asia.

Pristine Sustainability or Vapid Aesthetic Asceticism?

Greenwashing isn’t always easy to spot, but some places are more known for it than others. In Southeast Asia, in popular tourist spots like Phuket, Boracay, and Bali, there’s often a big push to look eco-friendly, especially with so many travelers looking for sustainable options.

Like many other popular destinations, Phuket, Thailand is well-known for its vibrant nightlife and stunning, pristine beaches. These days though, it's just as often associated with overtourism—where massive influx of visitors from around the world has put serious pressure on the island’s infrastructure and environment. Since the pandemic, tourism in Phuket has surged even more, with tourists now outnumbering locals by a staggering 118 to 1. While this has had the effect of reviving the local economy, which is ideally a positive sum, realistically it’s very clear that it might not be the most sustainable thing either.

Onto Phuket’s next door neighbor—that’s just about 2,600 kilometers away—is Boracay, Philippines. While its days as a top tourism hotspot might be behind it, Boracay was once the poster child for the damage that overtourism can cause. At its peak, the situation got so bad that former President Rodrigo Duterte famously called it a 'cesspool.' That harsh label prompted a massive government-led cleanup, leading to major overhauls in both environmental protections and tourist infrastructure.

Much of Boracay’s problems came from major wastewater being dumped into the sea, congested roads, overcrowded beaches, and poor management—mainly because the government didn’t do enough to address overtourism. After the island was shut down in 2018 under Duterte’s order, it bounced back as a tourist hotspot. 

But while that seems like a return to form, its history warns that if things go back to the old ways. Today, with sustainable practices being promoted more than ever, there’s greater focus on better upkeep and stricter restrictions on commercial activities. However, this also makes the island vulnerable to greenwashing, as eco-tourism buzzwords spread even when true sustainability isn’t always in place.

Lastly, as the ultimate cautionary tale of overtourism and its impacts, Bali, Indonesia is no stranger to the environmental damage caused by millions of foreign visitors. Tourism makes up 5% of the country’s GDP, serving as both the island’s main economic driver and its biggest challenge. In 2024 alone, Bali welcomed 6.33 million international tourists—generating around 318 billion IDR (roughly 19 million USD), putting considerable strain on the island’s environment.

More often than not, the industries that support these experiences often overuse local water, displace native ecosystems to build resorts, and increase carbon footprints through frequent international travel. Ultimately, the environmental costs are externalized—borne not by the tourists enjoying their ethical escape, but by the local communities facing waste, resource depletion, and cultural loss.

Many tourists—especially white visitors in Bali—promote sustainability and eco-friendly lifestyles as part of their experience. While they often embrace asceticism and even a respect for nature, this has frequently amounted to cultural commodification and appropriation rather than genuine environmental care. Which is where the irony lies, since these ‘eco-friendly’ experiences are marketed as saving the environment, in actuality are directly contributing to its decline. 

What does sustainability even mean anymore?

If sustainability is to have real meaning, it must be defined by those most affected by ecological breakdown—not by those who consume ‘green’ experiences for personal fulfillment.

Environmental justice requires more than biodegradable soap in a rainforest bungalow; it demands relinquishing power, returning land, and prioritizing indigenous knowledge over Instagrammable aesthetics. A genuine shift toward solutions that decenter Western or wealthy voices and instead emphasize local agency and environmental justice is essential.